Call it kismet, or the alignment of the stars, for chef Sean Brock to open a Nashville outpost of his acclaimed Charleston, S.C., restaurant Husk.

The site, a Victorian house on Rutledge Hill — its serene architectural presence, flourishing gardens, and notable history — could not be more ideally suited to express his passion: a celebration of Southern ingredients.

In considering the restaurant as a whole, two words come to mind: preservation and reinterpretation. Both are prevailing arts that meld and complement in all facets of the Husk mission, bringing forward what was vital of a time and giving it a fresh, modern perspective.

This is evidenced in the retrofitting of the circa 1880 home, which artfully incorporates open contemporary additions while honoring the integrity of the structure. It is evidenced in the ground’s edible landscaping, heirloom vegetables, herbs and permaculture fruits, all nurtured for the of-the-moment cuisine. And, it is evidenced in the cuisine itself, from libations to food, which upholds traditions of using the surrounding seasonal bounty while conserving for the future.

Lined up on the Husk bar, beneath the bottles of Pappy Van Winkle, is an apothecary array of bitters and shrubs, woodruff and marigold-infused vermouths, and dried honeysuckle flowers foraged this spring. Filling the kitchen’s pantry and larder are canned broths, juices, vinegars, pickled and fermented vegetables, smoked and cured meats.

What they don’t grow themselves comes from a wide community of farmers, ranchers and purveyors, friends of Brock, all hailing from below the Mason-Dixon line. Brock’s philosophy is simple: “If it doesn’t come from the South, it’s not comin’ through the door.”

Growing up in rural Virginia, Brock is rooted in the heritage of Southern food: growing, cooking and preserving. He is devoted to researching its wealth of ingredients, recipes and techniques, some of which have become obscured by the passage of time. His chef de cuisine Morgan McGlone, a talented and well-traveled New Zealander, embraces the Brock way with zeal.

Changing the menu twice daily, he leads the Husk kitchen, collaborating on traditional dishes made anew. This commitment goes beyond farm-to-table, and filters into all aspects of the experience: from the water glasses, repurposed from wine bottles, the locally crafted ceramic plates, the simple table settings of fresh herbs, the details of gracious service.

As a fine restaurant in our city, Husk is destined for greatness.

So many options

Where to begin? You could order one of the craft cocktails. The Texas Blue Step is an icy pour of Tito’s Vodka, housemade blueberry shrub, and Peychaud’s bitters — tart and refreshing. The Mayflower cocktail is a smooth, yet bracing quaff: Plymouth gin shaken with Cocchi Americano, orange blossom honey and bitters, garnished with a piece of Queen Ann’s Lace.

While you consider the menu, you’ll be served warm, yeasty rolls. Browned with benne seeds and bourbon-smoked sea salt, they arrive with a whip of honey-pork butter (That’s right, equal parts of butter and lard, laced with honey. Mercy.).

The roster of Firsts holds many great plates, just right for noshing. Rappahannock oysters scarcely cooked over embers are dotted with green garlic butter, lovage and shaved bottarga: each an ethereal slurp. Red pepper-rubbed chicken wings are deep-smoked to sweetness, served with a bowl of Alabama white sauce. Dig in and don’t worry about being messy — your server will bring you a finger towel to tidy up. The crusty mound of fried chicken skins dripping with honey and hot sauce are over the top — one or two indulgent bites are all this diner can muster.

Perfection, though, comes in the form of the Carolina Rice Griddlecakes. Derived from an 1875 recipe that marries cornmeal and plump Carolina Gold rice, the tender cakes have salty-crisp edges and a pleasant hit of cayenne that lingers on the tongue. A trio comes with a crock of Husk pimiento cheese (four Cheddars and Duke’s mayo go into the batch). You could have a cool drink and a plate of griddlecakes and be utterly content.

Salads are beautiful odes to the bounty of the moment. Heirloom tomatoes and pressed cucumber are cloaked with creamy Asher Blue Cheese vinaigrette. Hot vinegar dressing, poured over garden lettuces tableside, wilt the greens and amplify the shaved vegetables’ taste in the wryly named “Killed Lettuces.” Perhaps the most stunning construction is the Roasted Beet Salad — ruby, striped and golden discs in a pool of fermented buttermilk and grapefruit essence, garden sorrel and sweet woodruff. We appreciate the reintroduction to these botanicals, which respectively impart puckery lemon and complex tastes: vanilla, cinnamon, a touch of clove. All three salads are vegetarian.

A Plate of Southern Vegetables is a vibrant painter’s palette: whips of carrot and pea puree alongside carrot batons dabbed with chimichurri; roasted patty pan squashes, field pea and corn succotash; and the signature grits. In the Brock method, grits are cooked in water, not dairy, to highlight the inherent corn taste and gritty texture. Puddled with preserved tomato broth, the bowl is further embellished with shiitake mushrooms and a slow-poached 62-degree farm egg. This same preparation is used for the Shrimp and Grits. In either instance, the flavors are pure, intense and harmonious.

Meaty delights

On to meatier prospects: like many smart chefs citywide, McGlone sources grass-fed, hormone-free beef from local Bear Creek Farms.

On one evening, a tri-tip cut is served with roasted cauliflower, shiitake mushrooms, and two purees: cauliflower and fresh herb. The beef is lean yet tender, its accompaniments underscoring rich umami tastes. Heritage pork comes from friend and pig farmer Adam Musick of Virginia. We recommend the Musick bone-in chop, served with ember-grilled cabbage, buttermilk potato puree and a brilliant tangle of mustard onions. All work in concert, and the pork is bone-gnawing good.

In three visits, we experienced just one disappointment: the Grouper entrée. The foundation of the dish — tomatoes and diced zucchinis imbued with spearmint — had vitality, but the fish itself was flat and underseasoned.

A word about wines: Geology rather than geography informs how the wines are grouped. Look under headings of Alluvial, Slate, Volcanic for vintages; beverage director Kenny Lyons and staff will ably direct you in proper pairings. In the Limestone category, a barely pink-tinged Provencale rosé, Commanderie de Bargemone, is crisp, berried and bone-dry, a marvelous complement to all sorts of summer dining.

And, lastly, there are Lisa Donavan’s desserts.

We thought that nothing could surpass her Buttermilk Pie — akin to chess, but with soulful tang — until we had her fresh Georgia peach tartelette: cornmeal crust, peaches at peak juicy ripeness topped with a round of frozen honey-pecan mousse.

Nancy Vienneau is a chef and retired caterer with 25 years of experience. She blogs about her adventures with food at http://nancyvienneau.com. Reviews are written from anonymous visits to restaurants. The Tennessean pays for all meals.